


To Bind and to Loose

by Syndal



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syndal/pseuds/Syndal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The madness of such a thing, the risk… it makes them both ache for things far beyond their reach, locked away in a place where even lyrium could not tear them apart."</p><p>AU Samson x Nameless Inquisitor</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Bind and to Loose

She loves his callused fingers and the way they catch on her skin, like silk. She loves the way her name spills from his lips like a curse and a prayer at the same time. She loves all of the filthy things he whispers brokenly into her ear when she finally takes him to the hilt.

She loves this, loves  _him_ , even when she knows with bone-deep certainty that she shouldn’t. 

***

 He wants her to say his name, hot and wet across his skin, so she does. She wraps her tongue around it, his name, and breathes it from his lips, his chin, to the column of his throat and down, down into the crook of his neck where she smothers it with a kiss. Again and again she says it —  _Samson, Samson_  — and each syllable only spurs him on, to a fevered pace that makes her jaw clench and her head drop to the pillows. 

“Does he fuck you like this?” his breath is short and ragged in her ear, a mere growl punctuated by each thrust he makes. “Your commander. Your  _lion_.”

He spits the word, wraps it in fury and jealousy. He hates that another man — so lofty a man — touches her, tastes her,  _knows_  her.

“Never,” she moans, and it’s true.

The admission thrills him, drags him further down the path to his inevitable end. 

“Say it,” he demands, “say you want me.” 

The girlish smile she gives him earns her his teeth at her neck as a warning; he would mark her, and then all of Skyhold would see…

“I want you,” she says, loudly, honestly. “I want this.”

Oh, but what a mad pace that drives him to. Bared teeth give way to soft and fevered kisses as his hips buck without rhythm, instinct and need pushing him to the brink.

He cries out, broken and primal, and fills her with his seed. The madness of such a thing, the  _risk_ … it makes them both ache for things far beyond their reach, locked away in a place where even lyrium could not tear them apart.

He lays in her arms when they each finally still, his head upon her breast, listening to the beat of her heart as she strokes his hair.

“I don’t want to go,” she says quietly.

“Then don’t.” 

“It’s not that simple,” she murmurs into his hair, and he can hear it — the crack in her voice, the small, broken thing she tries to hide from him, and he  _knows_. He knows that she loves him. It had been a long time since he could say that of anyone, even himself.

In the end he lets her go, because he knows she will return to him. She always does.


End file.
